Chapter 72

As the second ritual commenced, the air crackled with ominous energy, suffused with the anguished cries of countless slaves whose lives were offered up as sacrifices to fuel the flames of the great fire within the temple of Hashut. The Chaos Dwarf sorcerers worked fervently, channelling their dark magics to summon the power of their malevolent god in a safer location within the sanctum of the temple.

Outside the city walls, the runes carved by Atlas into the surrounding rocks glowed with ethereal light, their ancient symbols pulsating with defiant energy as they sought to resist the overwhelming power of Hashut's divine presence. It was a silent battle of wills, an unseen struggle between the forces of darkness and the indomitable strength of Atlas's magic.

Within the temple, the sorcerers exchanged knowing glances as they sensed the waning strength of their god. With a solemn determination, they made a fateful decision, choosing to offer themselves as voluntary sacrifices in a final act of devotion to Hashut. As the flames surged higher, consuming their mortal forms in a blaze of sacrifice, the echoes of their infernal chants reverberated throughout the temple, a testament to their unwavering loyalty to their dark deity.

Outside the city walls, Atlas watched with grimace as the runes carved into the rocks began to falter under the onslaught of Hashut's power. Despite their valiant efforts, his defences could only hold for so long against the might of the Chaos Dwarf god. With a resounding crack, the runes shattered, and the fires of Hashut broke through into the mortal realm, albeit weakened by the struggle.

Though the victory was not without its cost, Atlas knew that they had dealt a significant blow to their enemies. With Hashut's power diminished the Chaos Dwarfs would find themselves vulnerable to the relentless advance of the undead horde. As he prepared to lead his forces into battle once more, Atlas saw the flames choose a vessel to manipulate.

It was the giant iron statue in the shape of Hashut.

The only thought that rattled inside Atlas's head was a single word.

"Fuck!"

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As the flames surged forth from the depths of the temple, they coalesced around the massive iron statue of Hashut, transforming the lifeless metal into a towering behemoth of fiery rage. The iron colossus loomed over the battlefield, its hollow belly now a seething furnace of molten heat, casting a sinister glow that illuminated the surrounding chaos with an ominous crimson hue.

The statue's form was imposing and grotesque, crafted in the likeness of Hashut, the bull-shaped god of the Chaos Dwarfs. Its massive horns curled menacingly upwards, gleaming with the same fiery intensity as the molten furnace within its belly. Eyes of smouldering embers glared out from beneath a furrowed brow, burning with a malevolent intelligence that seemed to pierce through the very soul of any who dared to meet its gaze.

As the flames danced and flickered across its iron surface, the statue seemed to come to life, its movements fluid and sinuous despite its massive bulk. Each step it took sent tremors reverberating through the earth, while the air crackled with the heat of its fiery presence.

Atlas watched in horror as the animated statue lumbered forward, its towering form casting a long shadow over the battlefield. With every step, the ground beneath it seemed to tremble, as if bowing in deference to the dark power that now animated the once lifeless metal.

The iron colossus raised its massive fists, wreathed in tongues of flame, ready to unleash its fury upon Atlas and his forces. In that moment, surrounded by the infernal glow of the animated statue, Atlas knew that he faced not just the might of the Chaos Dwarfs, but the wrath of a god made manifest in iron and fire.

Atlas forced his mind to evaluate his options. His enchanted sword wasn't enough to do more than chip the statue's metal skin. His magic would be needed to snuff out the flame that controlled the statue however that could only be done when it was wounded. The danger was if he exhausted himself trying to wound the metal beast, he wouldn't have the reserves left to finish the job.

With resolve hardening in his heart, Atlas gripped the haft of the enchanted axe tightly, feeling the weight of destiny in his hands. The axe, once wielded by the fearsome Orc Warboss Gorbad Ironclaw, seemed to hum with latent power, its edges glinting with an otherworldly sheen.

Sheathing his sword with a decisive motion, Atlas drew the axe, its weight feeling unfamiliar yet strangely comforting in his grasp – he hadn't had much experience with axes apart from splitting wood when he was a boy. With a practised swing, he tested its balance, the axe cleaving through the air with a deadly precision that belied its crude appearance.

As he advanced towards the towering iron statue of Hashut, Atlas felt a surge of adrenaline coursing through his veins, his senses sharpening as he prepared to face the ultimate challenge. With each step forward, the ground seemed to shake beneath his feet, the earth itself trembling in anticipation of the clash to come.

His mind raced with strategic calculations, weighing the risks and rewards of each possible course of action. He knew that to defeat the animated statue, he would need to strike with precision and timing, exploiting any weakness he could find while conserving his own strength for the decisive moment.

With a final breath to steady his nerves, Atlas charged towards the towering behemoth, his axe held aloft in a defiant gesture of defiance. As he drew closer, he could feel the searing heat radiating from the furnace within the statue's belly, its fiery glow casting long shadows across the battlefield.

With a primal roar that echoed across the plains, Atlas launched himself into the fray, his axe swinging in a deadly arc as he prepared to decide the fate of the battle, and perhaps the fate of the world itself.

God versus Vampire.